Rescue and Sacrifice
by brigadieretiennegerard
Summary: Whilst on a train, Watson is taken hostage by a criminal. How far will Holmes go to save his best friend, and how will they deal with the aftermath? Chapter 7 is now uploaded.
1. An Unfortunate Train Ride

Holmes P.O.V:

Watson had been gone about 15 minutes now, And I was starting to get a bit concerned. I glanced down at my pocket watch as I walked back into our compartment on the train, and was about to sit down when I noticed a note placed on the book I had been reading earlier. Here is the note transcribed below.

_Mr. Holmes,_

_ If you wish to see your dear friend again, then meet me at the unoccupied car at the back of the train as soon as possible, and come alone._

_ -Anonymous_

My heart turned to lead as I read this, and panic took its hold over me. But now was not the time to panic, it would get me nowhere. No, now was the time to think and execute a plan of action. I quickly regained my composure before rushing from the compartment and down the narrow hall. In my panic I failed to notice a man step out from one of the compartments, a man with a knife. He grabbed me by the shoulder and raised the knife. I threw a strong right cross to his face, but I was not able to back up in time. As the punch connected with his face, his knife came down and cut my stomach. Pain seared through the open wound, and I grunted in pain.

Years of boxing experience stepped in and I disarmed the man, by the time I was finished he was slumped up in the hallway and half conscious. I continued running despite the pain.

I reached the door to the last car on the train, and tried the handle, to my dismay it was locked. I lifted up my hand and tapped the door with my fist.

" It is I, Sherlock Holmes" I announced.

The door opened slightly and a face appeared around the door, he had a dark face and black hair.

"Ah, so it is, so it is. Please come in Mr. Holmes, do hurry."

I stepped into the room, it was empty all except for a few crates and large suitcases. The sight of my dear friend tied up in a chair in the corner, pained my heart, this was all my fault. His mouth was gagged and his hands tied behind the chair. I took a step towards my friend.

"Do not touch him Mr. Holmes, now give me the papers or I will shoot." The man leveled the gun at me.

" Now give it to me!" he repeated, I shook my head, I didn't have the documents he wanted.

"Well perhaps this will convince you" The man shouted with a maniacal laugh, and he turned the gun on my friend. He began to slowly pull back the trigger, and suddenly I knew what I had to do.

Watson's P.O.V:

While watching this exchange I had managed to secretly untie the rope that bound my hands, and I sat anxiously watching the confrontation, when suddenly the man had pulled a gun on Holmes, and then on me. I saw as the criminal slowly pulled back the trigger, and I closed my eyes unsure of what to do. If I jumped up now he would surely shoot Holmes. All I could do was sit there absolutely terrified. I heard the shot ring out, and a shadow pass in front of me, but I felt no pain. I opened my eyes, and was horrified by what I saw. Holmes had jumped in front of me, and had taken the bullet himself.

I wanted to scream but the tape around my mouth prevented me from doing so. I watched in terror as Holmes staggered backwards in pain, holding himself up against the wall.

" Your loyalty surprises me Mr. Holmes" said the strange man approaching my friend, He wound up and punched Holmes in the nose. My friend sank down against the wall.

Filled with an unstoppable rage and fury I leapt up out of my chair and charged at the man who had hurt my friend. I threw I strong hook at his head knocking him out completely. I pushed the man out of the way and ran to the side of my dear friend. He smiled weakly with a look of concern upon his face.

"Are you alright Watson?"

"Yes Holmes, don't worry about me right now you're the one in need of medical attention right now." It broke me to see the look of pain on his face, I knew he was trying to hide it but I saw right through it.

I cradled my best friend in my arms, and gently wiped the sweat from his forehead with my handkerchief. A calm expression was soon visible upon his face. I smiled down at him and he smiled at me, a silent message saying we would always be there for each other, no matter the circumstances. He was like a brother to me, I loved him dearly, and I knew that I was very lucky that his injuries weren't even more severe.

**_To be continued. Please review if you get the chance, Thanks for reading._**


	2. One Step Closer To Baker Street

Chapter 2: Begins where Chapter 1 left off. Holmes and Watson are still on the train, Holmes is badly injured, will they make it to Baker Street in time to save him?

Watson's P.O.V:

I looked down at Holmes; it was a struggle trying to keep him conscious while I tried to go over the full extent of his injuries. There was the bullet wound to the shoulder, a broken nose, and a long deep knife wound going from his upper right ribcage to his left hip. I tried to staunch the profuse bleeding, but he was loosing it quickly regardless of my efforts. I just prayed that the train would reach the station soon. The door connecting to the rest of the train was locked, but someone would have had to have heard the gunshot, hopefully help would be here soon. The air was getting cold, and I could see my breath before my face. Sweat was gathering on Holmes's forehead and he was shivering badly. I gently laid him back on the ground, removed my coat and then placed it around him.

I continued to hold my friend. The extra warmth from my coat appeared to be helping a little bit, but I could still literally see the colour draining from his face. He shivered violently, and I held him tighter refusing to let go of him. His eyes fluttered closed briefly.

"Come on Holmes you've got to stay awake, we'll be there soon." I said stroking his forehead, and trying to remain calm.

" I'm sorry Watson." Holmes said slowly his voice filled with pain and anguish.

"Sorry about what?" I asked

" I'm sorry if this is painful or hurtful to you Watson, because I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you. And I'm sorry for all the trouble I am causing you, you ought to just leave me here." His voice trailed off in a fit of coughs, and I was worried that the blood loss was affecting his mind.

" Holmes I would never abandon you, you know that. Now, we are going to get out of this together." I said trying to stop my voice from wavering.

We sat in silence for several minutes. Minutes, that were filled with anticipation, concern, and pain. I still to this day remember the sound of the brakes of the train activating, followed by the quieter sound of a door being unlocked. I glanced up and too my immense relief saw a man standing in the doorway, I recognized instantly that he worked on the train. Relief washed over me as I picked up my friend and shuffled over towards the door. We were one step closer to Baker Street. Hopefully our luck will continue.

_Please review if you get the chance, Thanks for reading. Sorry this chapter was so short, hopefully more updates on the way soon. Thanks again._


	3. Treatment

A Police constable standing nearby, helped summon a cab for me and lift Holmes inside. I jumped in the hansom cab and we were off in the direction of Baker Street. It wasn't long before doubts started forming in my head. Maybe I should be taking him to the hospital instead, he was my best friend and if something happened to him whilst under my care I doubted very much that I should be able to live with myself.

" No Watson, no hospital please." The voice from beside me grunted, as though he could read my mind. Nothing ever got by Holmes.

" Don't worry Holmes we're going straight to Baker Street." He nodded his head weakly before leaning against my shoulder.

The cab soon arrived at its destination, although it had felt like it had taken hours. I quickly paid the driver before leaping out of the cab holding Holmes. It was raining and the thick fog that resided in Baker Street soon engulfed us. I hurried up to the front door as fast as one can when they are supporting someone else's weight, and knocked urgently on the door.

Within a few seconds it was opened by the long suffering Mrs. Hudson.

"Oh Hello Doctor..." She broke off her sentence as soon as she saw that I was holding the body of her famous tenant.

" Goodness gracious, quick bring him inside, I'll go and fetch some warm water and towels." She said hurrying off in to the kitchen.

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson." I called after her.

Getting Holmes up the seventeen stairs to 221b took quite a bit of effort and time but finally I succeeded. Ignoring the pain in my shoulder I managed to carry Holmes in to his room and place him gently down upon the clean bed sheets. I quickly undid the blood stained jacket and dress shirt, and removed it from his body. Poor Holmes was freezing so I draped a blanket over his torso and began to take a closer look at the bullet wound in his shoulder. Although it had caused him to lose a lot of blood, the wound itself was not to severe, however the bullet was still lodged in his shoulder and it was necessary that it be removed as soon as possible.

I ran and grabbed my medical bag from the study, and almost ran in to Mrs. Hudson who was marching quickly to Holmes' room, carrying the water and towels. She placed the water basin and towels on the bedside table before taking her leave.

I lit a candle and removed my surgical scalpels and knives from my medical bag as well as a syringe of morphine. At the sight of the syringe Holmes shook his head.

" No Watson, no morphine, please." I smiled and understood immediately, I had been trying to get Holmes to stop using those dreadful drugs and he had been doing so well. He was reluctant to give up yet.

" Are you sure Holmes, this will hurt a great deal." to which he nodded weakly in reply.

Instead I pulled out a bottle of very strong liquor and poured a small glass which he downed quickly. I retrieved my needle and thread from my medical bag and handed Holmes a piece of hard wood to bite down on.

" Sorry old friend." I said as I began to clean the knife wound on his stomach with alcohol. He grimaced in pain. It was a nasty wound, about 7 inches long.

And next came the more painful part, the stitches. I worked slowly and methodically and was somewhat satisfied with the end result, I did a decent job I thought proudly to myself. I quickly bandaged up his stomach in an attempt to keep the wound safe from infection.

Next came the part I was most dreading, the part that had more potential of going wrong; the removal of the bullet. I picked up the scalpel for the dissection tray and held it over the candle flame until it was red hot. I waited a moment for it to cool down before beginning the slow and methodical process of removing the bullet. With the bullet now successfully removed I set about removing shrapnel from the wound, this took quite a while but is was very important to get right. Holmes' breathing was ragged from the pain, sweat formed on his forehead and his face set in painful grimace.

With the bullet and shrapnel finally removed I cleaned out the wound and picked up a blunt knife from the table. I held the knife over the candle flame until it was hot and then pressed it against the bullet wound. Cauterizing the wound would stop the blood flow and seal the bullet wound at the same time, but I also had to be very careful about burning the skin. I could only hold the knife to the wound for a couple seconds at a time, I repeated this process several times. Finally satisfied with the job I bandaged up the bullet wound and collapsed into the chair by his bed, exhausted and relieved. Now the main concern on my mind had shifted and it was now focused on making sure none of the wounds got infected.

**_A/N: To be continued. Please review if you get the chance, thanks for reading._**


	4. In the Company of a Good Friend

I sat by Holmes all through the night, not taking my eyes off of him for more than a minute at a time. My dear friend slept soundly for most of the night, although a few times it appeared that he had been struck by a bad dream. During these episodes I would wipe the nervous sweat off of his brow, and stroke his hair in an attempt to calm his troubled mind. Regardless of these incidents the rest of the night went by smoothly and I sat in the chair by his bed watching every breath he took, just relieved that he was alive. Time crept by slowly and then morning came, the sun slowly rose from it's hiding place beneath the horizon; filling the sky with a miraculous warmth as it gradually floated higher and higher into the cool air. It was a moment that you only get during the winter. The rising sun was full of it's deep oranges and pinks; in stark contrast to the cold, as the icy air of winter bit at the windows.

I stared out of the window, a faint smile on my face. The warm colours of the sunrise danced upon my face as I looked out on to the street, and in to the beautiful sunlight that streamed through the frosty windows. A more lovely sight is difficult to recall. I heard a faint noise behind me and I turned around ever so slowly. Holmes was now awake and he looked up at me, smiling softly. We talked for a while, but there was one question I had to ask. I finally worked up the nerve to ask it.

"Holmes, why did you jump in front of that bullet?" I asked slowly.

"Well I thought that would have been obvious, I didn't want you to get hit." He replied with I wry smile.

"Holmes that's not what I meant. What I did mean however was why were you so willing to take it yourself, even if it meant risking your life?" What Holmes said next surprised me greatly, I had never heard such a compliment from the man.

" You are a good man Watson, a better man I have never met. I doubt that there is a bad bone in your body. You are far too precious a person to lose, for the world and myself, I know that I would be quite at loss without you."

I left it at that, not quite sure what to say in return. We continued talking and then sat in companionable silence, just enjoying each other's presence. There is nothing quite like the company of a good friend.

**Sorry this is so short, and sorry it took awhile. More chapters to be updated soon hopefully. Thanks for reading and please review if you get the chance.**


	5. Concerning a Fever

Night came and once more I sat in my chair by Holmes' side as he slept. Today had been a promising day; Holmes was beginning to seem a bit more like himself, and appeared to be on the path to recovery. I was exhausted and hadn't slept for days, but I had it set in my mind that I would not sleep until I was sure that Holmes was out of any significant danger and on the mend. However I am extremely embarrassed and ashamed to say that I did in fact drift asleep during my nights vigil over Holmes.

I woke in the morning to the sound of raindrops gently pattering against the window, as well as the soft sound of thunder from far off in the distance. Unlike yesterday morning, today I was not met with the sight of the sun streaming through the windows and the bright blue sky hanging above the city. Instead I was met by a dark cloud looming ominously in the dull gray sky. I slowly opened my eyes and began to take in my surroundings, suddenly reality all came flooding back to me, 'Oh gosh, I had drifted asleep, Where was Holmes!?' These thoughts raced through my head and I immediately bolted upright, infront of me I saw my greatest friend. He struggled about in a restless sleep as though fighting off some invisible force. I hurried over to his side not wasting a single second, it pained me greatly to see my friend in such a state.

I observed the sweat that dripped from his skin, and lightly felt his sweaty forehead; it was burning hot, and it was obvious to me that Holmes had a fever, and a bad one at that. This was the exact thing that I had been trying to prevent. I gently cupped the man's face in my hand and tapped it slightly.

" Holmes It's me, Watson." I said in what I hoped was a calming tone.

A part of his mind seemed to register my voice and I saw his eyes flicker open ever so slightly.

" Watson..?' He slurred groggily it was a sound that was hardly audible, never mind recognisable as the the voice of my dear friend. I pulled my chair closer and sat down in it,

"Yes Holmes, It is me, Watson. I've got you, you're safe now."

I reached down and picked up his hand that was currently hanging over the side of the bed and held it in mine. Whilst my other hand stroked his sweaty hair reassuringly. We sat like this for several minutes when a quiet tap at the door disrupted the silence.

" Come in." I said quietly. The door opened and in walked Mrs. Hudson, she glanced at Holmes and began to slowly move over towards us.

"How is he?"

"He's got a very bad fever, I'm afraid an infection is setting in."

"Is there anything you need me to get?" Concern was written all over her face.

"Can you please bring me some cold water and a hand towel, as well as my thermometer?" Mrs. Hudson nodded her head in return to this, and I watched as she walked out of the room. I sat there for a few minutes and then stood up slowly, placed Holmes' hand back down by his side and patting it briefly. I pulled back the sheets from off of his body, and went about the task of removing his shirt, as I did so I could feel the heat radiating from his thin frame. 'Oh, this isn't good, this really isn't good.' I thought to myself. The severity of his fever was far worse than I had first suspected. I strongly hoped for his sake that the fever would not lead to delirium.

A few minutes later, our Landlady reappeared carrying everything that I had asked her to get. She could have had someone help her with the water, but I knew she would hear none of it. Mrs. Hudson had developed a certain fondness for Holmes, he was almost like family, she was always trying to get him to eat.

I watched as Mrs. Hudson placed the supplies on top of the dresser and walked over to Holmes' side carrying a cold hand towel, which she placed gently upon his forehead to cool him down. the Landlady patted Holmes' hand reassuringly, and tuned to leave. She was good at this kind of thing.

" Do let me know if you need anything. Oh and, Don't worry Doctor, he will be alright." She smiled sadly at me concern in her eyes as she left the room.

I dearly prayed that what she said would be true.

**To be continued. Thanks for reading and please review if you get the chance.**


	6. One Tired Doctor

I did all that I was capable of and worked for hours on end, yet it was not enough, the fever still refused to break. I had worked myself to the point of utter exhaustion and the thought of Holmes was the only thing keeping me from collapsing right then and there. I had redressed the wounds and laid cold wash cloths on his chest and stomach carefully placing them around the bandages so as not to get them wet. Regardless of all of these procedures, when I last went to check his temperature the thermometer had confirmed my fears, the fever was at 105 degrees Fahrenheit. I felt as though a lead weight had dropped into my stomach, and had taken up residence, unmoving.

I placed a cold towel under his neck and one on his forehead as well as replacing the ones on his stomach. I fell back into the chair that stood by his bedside and wrung my hands, trying to delve into my mind and figure out what more I could do. Nothing seemed to be working, the fever had not yet broken and I could see the delirium beginning to take hold over my dear friend and colleague.

Delirium was often quite a difficult thing to watch, but the fact that it was Holmes made it even more painful and unbearable for me. To see a man so strong and resolute, with a constitution that might as well be forged from steel, to be so wracked with fear. It wasn't right and I found it deeply disturbing.

The delirium would fluctuate frequently between moments of calm and awareness to some of the most severe states of delirium that I had seen in many years.

Holmes had been relatively calm for the past eight minutes and I knew that it was too good to last. Not long after this though had passed through my mind, did I see Holmes' thin frame begin to tremble and he began to shout out and struggle to the point that I was worried that he would cause himself further injury. I vividly recall seeing Holmes lift his shaking arm and without a moments pause point at something behind me, as he propped himself up with his other arm.

" Watch out Watson, get down. The Professor, he's behind you!" Holmes shouted with such pain and fear in his voice that I felt something inside of me break. I realized that he was referring to Professor Moriarty.

I remember briefly glancing over my shoulder and then rushing over to Holmes. Upon reaching him I grasped his shoulders and stared at him, his steely eyes were frozen with terror.

" Holmes, listen to me, the Professor is gone, in fact he was never here."

Holmes' eyes stared back at me blankly and unresponsive. The only other time I had seen that expression upon Holmes' face was when he was in one of his drug induced states, and even then it hadn't been nearly so dreadful. The eyes that looked back at me were not those of my friends, in fact his whole face was changed. I was unsure if he was looking at me or behind me, giving his eyes an unseeing quality. The expression I saw that day shook me so greatly that I can still remember it now.

" Holmes, it is I, Watson." To this there came no reply, not even a murmur or motion of acknowledgement. Holmes seemed to be in some kind of semi catatonic state.

There was thankfully, nothing wrong with his breathing or heartbeat as both kept a steady rhythm. For the next half an hour whilst I tried to cool down his temperature, I attempted to coax him out of his state. This only ended up been partially successful; the fever finally lessened, however to my dismay the state he was in did not.

" Don't do this to me Holmes" I murmured, collapsing in to my chair and pulling Holmes into a strong embrace. "Please dear friend, you will be alright, I will see to it that it is so." I sobbed into his shoulder, unsure of what to do next. I held him for several minutes before the exhaustion finally overwhelmed me and all I had the energy to do was lay my friend back down upon the sheets and pull a blanket over him tucking it under his chin, before I fell back into my chair, my forehead landed on his shoulder and I fell fast asleep. I had only one thought as I drifted asleep; Tomorrow is a new day, and hopefully a more promising one. I will save Holmes.

And that I was sure of.

**To be continued, sorry if there was any confusion about the appearance of Mary in chapter 5, she is not supposed to even be in this story, instead I meant it to be Mrs. Hudson. I have revised the chapter now though and replaced Mary with Mrs. Hudson. Anyway thanks for reading and please review if you get the chance.**


	7. From the Perspective of a Visitor

**Lestrade POV**

I decided that I would stop by Baker Street to check in on Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson the following day. My schedule was packed full with an abundance of appointments so I would have to stop by early, and that is precisely what I did. At about nine o'clock in the morning I found myself at the door to 221 Baker Street, where Mrs. Hudson promptly ushered me indoors. I turned to her and gave her a grateful nod. It was then that I noticed the worry etched on to her face, as well as the dark lines under her eyes which spike of lack of sleep. How bad could Holmes' condition be? I thought to myself.

Mrs. Hudson must have recognized the questioning look upon my features, for when we reached the top of the stairs she paused at the door to 221b her hand resting on the handle. The good landlady turned to me and spoke gravely.

" I must warn you, Mr. Holmes is in a bad condition, I have never seen him so worse for wear."

Mrs. Hudson opened the door and I followed her through the sitting room and over to the strong wooden door that resided on the opposite wall. I assumed it must be Holmes' room.

"Doctor Watson" she called out softly, rapping her knuckles on the door. "Inspector Lestrade is here to see you."

To that there came no reply, so Mrs. Hudson slowly twisted the handle opening the door, before quickly stepping out of the way so that I could enter the room.

I did so and I saw a most singular scene, it appeared that both of them were asleep. Doctor Watson sat in a chair by the bed, it seemed as though he had fallen forward in his sleep, for his head rested on the mattress by Mr. Holmes' chest. I noticed that Doctor Watson was also holding the hand of the great detective in his own.

The good doctor woke with a start as I entered the room, and hurriedly jumped up embarrassed or perhaps concerned with propriety and the assumptions that could be formed.

Regardless of the speed at wich he had departed his chair, I noticed how he gently returned the limp hand that he had been holding only moments before, back to the detective's side. Holmes did not stir. In fact Mr. Holmes' entire visage was disconcertingly calm, yet the gentle rising and falling of his chest was quite reassuring.

The doctor had his back turned to me and I watched as he took a wash cloth from the nearby water basin, wiping away the feverish sweat from his friends face and brushing his hair back from his eyes with such care, care that spoke of the great friendship that existed and flourished between the two men.

Doctor Watson looked at him with a great kindness in his eyes and I felt as though I didn't belong there, as though I was interrupting something. I cleared my throat breaking the awkward silence. Watson turned to me as if seeing me for the first time since I had entered the room.

" Inspector" he nodded his head towards me " How can I help you?" he spoke in a hushed whisper and walked over to me so that I could hear.

" If you have come to consult him on a case, I am afraid that it is entirely impossible at the moment, and that I must ask you to..."

" No, no" I assured him profusely " I did not come on a case."

Watson eyed me suspiciously.

" I merely came to speak with you." I continued earnestly.

" Alright, I will meet you in the study, you will excuse me for a minute." His voice was surprisingly shaky.

" Yes, yes of course."

I turned around before leaving and saw the Doctor drape a cool cloth on the Detective's forehead. Mr. Holmes was very lucky to have such a friend. I stood silently as Watson fell down into the chair, his head in his hands, and was it just my imagination of were his broad shoulders shaking. I didn't stay to find out, I decided that the man need his privacy, and I would give him all the time he needed, he deserved it. I quietly closed the door behind me and walking in to the study, I took a seat in one of the comfortable armchairs. Going over the events of the past week in my head.

**Sorry it took so long to update. Thanks for reading, please review if you get the chance.**


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